


Five Things

by novajanna



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10906905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novajanna/pseuds/novajanna
Summary: Five people who discovered Johnny's tendency to wear lingerie, and one person who liked it almost as much as Johnny





	Five Things

1.

Johnny’s mom walks into his room just as he’s shimmying into his jeans, and he knows that she’s seen because she stops in the doorway, mouth open like she was just about to say something.

He’s getting ready to go over to someone’s house - Rob - a friend who’s not really a friend. He’s a boy who Johnny hooks up with sometimes, fooling around in an empty house when his parents are a way and there’s no chance his friends might drop by unexpectedly.

The panties he’s wearing are simple, really, soft black fabric edged in white lace, but they make him feel sexy and Johnny knows that Rob kind of likes them too, even if he won’t admit it. (Soon, Johnny will get sick of fooling around with straight boys who won’t look him in the eye when they’re around other people, who pretend he doesn’t exist, or, worse, who push him around a little, showing off to their friends.)

Johnny’s frozen with his fingers curled in his belt loops, zipper still undone as he looks at his mom.

“Oh, Johnny,” she says, and at first Johnny thinks her tone is tinged with disappointment – like this is it, this is the thing she can’t accept – but then he realizes that she’s not going to continue.

“Are you-” he starts, unsure of what he’s trying to say.

“I just wanted to remind you to take out the trash before you leave.” She smiles at him, soft and slow, and Johnny feels relief and gratitude in a rush.

He smiles back, a little shaky. “Sure thing.”

“Thanks, honey.” She closes the door behind her and Johnny tugs the jeans over his hips, relishing the feel of the panties’ fabric against his skin.

2.

From the first moment the guy touches the lace at Johnny’s hip, Johnny knows he’s not into it. He pulls back slightly and looks the guy in the eye, giving him his fiercest gaze, even though he’s not feeling strong at all.

The guy actually looks a little disgusted, which makes Johnny’s stomach clench, but he just sighs and walks away, walks back to where Paris and their friends are sitting in a booth.

He knows he doesn't need to explain himself to anyone, but the truth is he wouldn’t know how to, anyway.

3.

Stephanie is rifling through his bag, looking for the sketches he’d forgotten to pull out earlier. By the time he realizes what else is in the bag, it’s too late; she’s standing there holding the corset he’d bought earlier that day, black with hot pink ribbons. It’s not something he’d ever be able to wear out, even underneath a carefully layered outfit, but he’d loved it from the second he saw it, and there was no chance he was leaving the store without it.

“For a friend?” Stephanie asks wryly, like she’s going to start teasing him about it, and Johnny doesn’t think he can handle that, doesn’t think he can joke it off.

He swallows hard. “No.”

Stephanie looks at him for a long moment, and then back down at the corset. She tugs at a ribbon, rubbing it between her fingers. “You know,” she says, “this colour would stand out really well on the ice.”

Johnny knows it would, that it would look amazing, that contrast of pink on black – that’s why he bought the corset in the first place – but it was meant to be kept behind closed doors. He looks down at his hand, curled into the fabric of his jeans. “Maybe,” he says.

4.

“Open it,” Tanith says, and she’s looking at him intently, so Johnny puts down his drink and turns to the package. It’s a wide, flat box with a bow around it, and Johnny honestly has no idea what it’s going to be even as he’s pulling away the tissue paper.

He gasps a little when he sees it, a deep blue taffeta corset with pleated folds at the hips. “It’s-”

“It’s gorgeous, right?” Tanith says, and she sounds hopeful, like this is just any other gift that she’s really hoping Johnny will like.

“Well yes, obviously,” Johnny says, running a tentative finger along the boning. “But-”

“I found your stash, accidentally,” Tanith admits. “I was looking for a shirt to borrow after I spilled my drink at that party – you remember, like a month ago? – and I found your whole collection.”

“Oh,” Johnny says, and he stares at the way the light shimmers on the corset instead of looking at Tanith.

“You own nicer bras than me, did you know that?” Johnny cracks a small smile. “How come you’ve never modeled them for me?”

“I, um,” Johnny says, pauses, trying to find the words to explain that he doesn’t model them for anyone, ever, to explain that they stay hidden in his closet or disguised by fashionably baggy shirts. “I can model this one for you?”

“Really?” Tanith says, genuinely excited, and Johnny nods slowly, finally tearing his eyes off the corset.

He stands and pulls his t-shirt over his head, then turns the corset over to loosen the ties. The fabric is cool and smooth as it slips over his skin, and he runs his hands over the pleats a few times as Tanith ties up the laces. Once she’s finished, she spins him around and takes a step back.

“You look wonderful,” Tanith breathes. “Do you want to look in the mirror?”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes at the feeling of the boning running along his skin, the way it cinches him in, forgetting for a moment that Tanith is there.

 

5.

Johnny’s in the change room after competition, taking his time getting back into his street clothes. He’s going out with friends to some club, and even though he’s impossibly tired – he feels it in his entire body, in the way his muscles ache and his bones creak, just a little – he’s thinking he might find someone to hook up with. Not anything serious, just – it might be nice to be close to someone again, even just making out against a wall in a dingy corner.

He’s trying to decide whether or not he wants to wear the bra to match the panties he’s already wearing when Stéphane walks in, and Johnny can’t move fast enough to stuff the bra into his bag.

“You are almost ready?” Stéphane asks, leaning against the door. “We are all waiting for you!”

“I, um…yeah,” Johnny replies, gripping the bra just a little too tightly, feeling conspicuous with the bright piece of fabric in his hand.

“You are wearing this?” Stéphane walks over to where Johnny is sitting and smoothes a hand over the material – a light blue lace – glancing up at Johnny. “It is lovely fabric. Very soft.”

“That’s why I picked it,” Johnny agrees, relaxing slightly. He watches Stéphane closely, waiting for a real reaction, but Stéphane is still fondling the fabric. (Johnny does have excellent taste.)

“It is a good colour for you, also,” Stéphane replies, smiling at Johnny, and Johnny grins back.

“This – it doesn’t bother you?” He asks, and Stéphane’s genuinely puzzled look is reassurance enough.

“No? Should it?” Stéphane sits down next to him on the bench. “You wear these things often, no? With the ribbons-” he makes a criss-cross pattern across his chest – “-and the sparkles and all those things. This is not so different.”

“But-” Johnny starts, and he stops himself before he says _But what if it is different?_

Stéphane must understand anyway, because his gaze becomes softer and he puts his arm over Johnny’s shoulders and tugs him in so Johnny can rest his head against Stéphane’s shoulder. “So it is a little different,” Stéphane says, and shrugs just enough that Johnny can feel the movement. “No problem.”

Johnny lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding since Stéphane walked in, loosening his grip on the now-wrinkled material in his hand. “No problem.”

6.

Johnny was sure that he was the last person in the change room, but obviously he was wrong, because now he’s standing half-naked in a bra and panties and Evan Lysacek is standing two feet away from him, clutching his towel to his waist, eyes wide.

He’s expecting a smirk any second now, some sort of failed attempt at a witty comment that will still cut too deep, but instead Evan just looks him up and down and takes a step closer.

He feels trapped as Evan moves toward him, and when Evan raises a hand Johnny is actually expecting a punch. He’s never seen Evan throw a punch before, doesn’t really think he’s the type, but this is not normal circumstances.

“Evan-” Johnny starts, a warning or a plea, but then Evan touches Johnny’s shoulder, right where the pink silk strap cuts across his skin. Evan’s hand is cold from the rink, even after a shower, but that’s only part of the reason Johnny shivers. He tips his head back just a little, looking up at the ceiling instead of up at Evan, and Evan runs his thumb along Johnny’s collarbone, and Johnny takes a deep breath in.

He’s willing himself not to get hard, to let this moment end as quickly as possible, whatever it is, but then Evan’s other hand squeezes at Johnny’s side, right where the pink silk cuts under his hip bone, and it jolts his gaze back to Evan.

They’re close enough that Johnny can feel the heat coming off of Evan’s body, but they are only touching where Evan’s hands rest on Johnny’s skin.

Johnny is used to Evan looking confused or determined, or just blank, like he’s carefully schooled his features into showing no emotion at all. Right now, though, Evan looks…aroused, and maybe even a little awed; he definitely doesn’t look like he’s in control. Johnny’s fascinated to see that Evan’s flushed all the way down to where his tattoo is peeking out over the edge of his towel.

Evan slides his hand to Johnny’s neck and tilts his head just enough that he can lean in and press a close-mouthed kiss to Johnny’s lips, quick and almost chaste, off-centre.

“It’s-” Evan starts, and then says, “You look beautiful.” Johnny glances down, feeling the blush rising on his cheeks, and looks at the way Evan’s finger is hooked under Johnny’s bra strap, the way his skin tone is such a stark contrast to Johnny’s, the way he’s tugging just enough at the material that the strap digs into Johnny’s shoulder - and then it’s real.

Johnny finally moves his arms, framing Evan’s face with his hands and pulling him down into a proper kiss, sweeping his tongue over Evan’s lips so Evan opens with a little hitch of breath. Johnny keeps his eyes open and watches Evan, watches the way his eyes flutter closed, feels the way he tenses slightly when Johnny bites at his lip and draws him closer.

Evan’s thigh brushes against where Johnny’s erection is caught in the pink trim of the panties, and Evan jerks back in a rush, stumbling and almost falling as he takes a few steps back from Johnny. He glances at Johnny, then looks down and grasps at his towel, pulling it tighter at his waist. He moves to the other side of the change room where his clothes are, quickly, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

Johnny doesn’t watch him change, doesn’t even shift his weight or turn his head, just waits until he hears Evan leave, waits until the door clicks shut, before he moves again, putting his clothes on in slow, controlled motions, calming himself down and ignoring the way the silk moves against his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> \-- Archiving all my old LJ fic --
> 
> Thanks to [](http://extemporally.livejournal.com/profile)[**extemporally**](http://extemporally.livejournal.com/) for hand-holding and beta-reading; this is really her fic to begin with, she just had too many other awesome fics to write, so I got to put the ideas on the page.


End file.
